


Marry in Haste

by boneandfur (whiskeyneat)



Category: Choices Pixelberry, Choices the stories you play - Fandom, Choices: Desire and Decorum, Desire and Decorum, Pixelberry, PlayChoices
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Step-siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 13:59:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16097072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyneat/pseuds/boneandfur
Summary: "Marry in Haste, Repent at Leisure." An AU which MC marries Mr Marlcaster at Gretna Green to inherit Edgewater, and continues her love affair with Mr Sinclair. But is he really the one who holds her heart? Diverges from canon after Book 1, chapter 10.





	1. Chapter 1

“Marry in haste, repent at leisure”, William Congreve, 1693.

 

**CHAPTER ONE**

 

We were Married in a shoddy, slap-dash affair, over an anvil at Gretna Green with only my maid and his valet to stand witness. I was already _enceinte,_ as they say, but not with the child of my Husband. Nevertheless, it was an agreeable Proposition: he would keep his mistress, and I my Lover, and both of us would enjoy the fruits: the magnificent estate of Edgewater.

 

No Lie was ever so sweet. It was only after, flush with our Deception, that we knew we trod the path of Perilous Ruin. 

 

At the news, I heard from Miss P--- that the Dowager Countess took to her bed for a Week, then decamped to Bath to take the waters and drum up Sympathy for herself. To lose a husband and two sons in so short a time: she would complain of her Dreadful Plight to any who would listen. 

 

Lo! But my heart was Sore for my dear friend, not only had she begged me to Reconsider, but she had been forced to take a position as a paid companion to my Lady Grandmother, for she would not Marry. 

 

Dear Reader, how I Envied her! 

 

•••

 

After six weeks on the Continent, my new Husband and I returned to Claim our estate. We had laid out our circumstance thusly: to him, a Mistress, to me, a Lover. Edgewater needed heirs, he only wanted but one for Himself, and I needed not trouble myself for a few years on that account. 

 

How merry we were then! 

 

I romped nude in the Bay of Naples, and took a three-day trip to see Pompeii. I painted many lovely watercolours, and sent them off posthaste to Annabelle, whose wicked letters, filled with all the gossip, brightened my spirits. 

 

When I returned to the villa, my Husband's mistress was glowing. I was sure he had put a child in her belly. 

 

_He is so different when he is with me, Perdita!_

 

I cared little for what Society would think, then. Ah, those were happy days -- the happiest! I became sleek and well-fed as a seal, I ruined my complexion, and freckled all over. Of the Life inside of me, I rejoiced -- never worrying what my Lover did in Town, only hoping that he would not think too badly of me. 

 

But all our Sorrow was yet to come...

 

•••

 

_My dearest Perdita..._

 

How I envy you in the warm sun of Italy! I hope it agrees with your complexion, your Lady Grandmother had her maid mix us up the most dastardly concoction from a woman in the village. It stunk worse than an alley on a hot summer's day, but Madame assures me I shall be white as milk with nightly applications (I dump it in the chamberpot each night, and Cook has begun to fear for my constitution). 

 

You asked for news of Town, and what has become of your suitors. It is thus: Mr Sinclaire is holed up in his townhouse, and will not see visitors. Prince Hamid has left for Constantinople, and they say his eyes were full of sorrow to see our great city go, but I think his tears were for you. Mr Harper still works for your Step-Mama, though he has confided in me he means to rejoin the army, and hopes for a posting abroad before your Return. 

 

As for Miss Sutton, her father has vowed to sue your Husband for Breach of Contract, I hope it will not importune your fortunes overmuch. 

 

You know where my Heart lies, dearest Perdita. I shall never wed, not even if the Prince Regent himself made an offer. 

 

_All my affection,_

_Annabelle._

 

•••

 

When we returned to Edgewater, my Lady Grandmother met us at the door. She looked as though she had aged a Decade, so frail and trembling was she. "Dearest child," she said. And her fan said, _What have you done_?

 

"I have only taken what is mine, Lady Grandmother," I said aloud. My Husband touched my arm. I had vowed on my own to make a Man of him. He would not bow to the Dowager Countess, nor give her demands any quarter. _Are you not proud_? my fan replied to hers. "After all, this is what my Father would have wanted."

 

"Your father--! The Duke is in the parlor with the Dowager Countess," said she. She trembled fretfully, and I laid a gentle hand upon her arm. 

 

"I am Countess now, Lady Grandmother. The Duke does not scare me." I looked to my Husband, who quaked in his fine Hessian boots. "Husband? Shall we beard the lion in its den?" 

 

My Husband turned to me, and I could have sworn I saw a glint of Mirth in his blue eyes. 

 

_Let us eat, drink, and be merry; for_

_tomorrow we Die._

 

"After you, Wife." Yes, most decidedly mirth. He touched my lower back, but not in a lover's caress. Though I had laid with him but once to consummate the marriage, there was naught between but friendly Affection. 

 

After our copulation, which was not as bad as I feared, we had laid and laughed in bed, and he had touched my cheek, and said only, _I think I have made the right choice_. 

 

If there had been a hint of sorrow in his voice, I had brushed it aside. There would be recriminations enough on the morrow, for it did not sit well with his mistress that I must take him to my bed for show; indeed, it took many assurances that his affections laid firmly with her, and there lay a robust friendship between he and I -- nothing more. 

 

•••

 

The Duke was sprawled upon the settee, a glass of ratafia in his liver-spotted hand. When he saw us enter the room arm in arm, he glowered like an old bull that must watch the young, upstart bull plow the choicest cows from beyond the gate. "Lady Perdita!" he cleared his throat, but the Dowager Countess leapt in. 

 

"How dare you -- how dare you, you  half-breed trollop! I demand an annulment, I have already written to the Archbishop --"

 

"This was my choice," said my Husband, in a tone bordering on disrespect. "You have what you wanted. In this house --" he looked to me, and I gave him a regal nod, "-- you will speak of my Wife, the Countess, with respect." 

 

"But--!" Henrietta half-swooned, but when no one moved to catch her, she collected herself. "Do you mean to tell me--" but she could not go on; indeed, she was pale as a ghost.  

 

My husband smiled wickedly, looking straight at the Duke as he spoke. "I plowed the field, Your Grace, and planted my Seed." His hand tightened on my waist, as if I could be told to hold my tongue any more!

 

I stood on tip-toe, and kissed his cheek. "He has made me the Happiest of wives." And then I hid my blushing cheeks behind my fan, and signaled to the Duke, _I do not care for you. Leave now_. 

 

"I will put a stop to this sham marriage and rescue you, Lady Perdita, I vow it!" The Duke swore as he bent over my hand. His face was that of a man who plotted murder most Foule, yet he took his leave forthwith, leaving my Husband and I with the livid Dowager Countess. 

 

"You--!" she rounded on me, claws out, but to my eternal surprise, my Husband stepped between us.

 

"You will not touch her." At his command, she collapsed, sobbing on the floor. Sadness crossed his face, and he helped her up, setting her down upon the settee: crocodile tears. She caught my gaze and smirked, simpering. 

 

"You would not turn me from my home--!" 

 

He looked to me and she saw it, her knuckles clenched white. "Not right away, Perdita needs instruction in the running of the household." He cleared his throat. "What say you, wife?"

 

Of course I wanted the poisonous snake out of our lives without delay, but mindful of my Husband's tender feelings for his mother, I said, "Madam, you may stay as long as you wish. But we wish to have the master bedroom to ourselves, for it has been a long journey." I fluttered my fan at my Husband. _Kiss me._

 

His brows rose in surprise, but he stood, and when he bent to kiss my cheek, I turned my head and kissed him in the French manner, moaning wantonly. He caught on to the jest, and kissed me back exuberantly, groaning into my mouth. 

 

"Wife." He drew back, flushed, loosening his cravat. He laid a finger on my lips, and then turned to his Mother, whose face was reddish-purple as a beet. I prayed she would have an apoplexy on the spot. "We wish to retire forthwith, so clear your effects from the room, madam." 

 

That night, we made much merry: bouncing up and down on the bed as it creaked and swayed, until he tickled my ribs and we fell back laughing onto the mattress. For a moment, all was silent, and the air crackled with a thing unspoken. 

 

"Be kind to her, that is all I ask of you," he said simply, touching my cheek.

 

Kind? I am not a kind woman, and neither, I regret to say, was she. 

 

After forty days and nights of our shenanigans, she decamped forthwith to Bath to plot her next move. 

 

•••

 

At the end of the Season, in August, the banns were read for a Marriage of Unequals. Miss Sutton wed the Duke with all Pomp and Circumstance, and we attended their wedding at Westminster Cathedral. The payoff to her had been handsome indeed, and made her Dowry one of the Richest in all the land. 

 

Proud Creature that she was, she soon set about to fill the London drawing rooms with gossip about myself and her former fiancé, but I was much admired for my grace, and the mud did not stick. After that, why, she turned her head to spending all the Duke's money, and showing us up at every turn with the grand balls and parties she would throw. 

 

But I saw through it. Theresa Sutton was a sad creature, and she never stopped hating me, not until the day they lowered her into the ground. 

 

But she was not my deepest enemy -- nay, I was not to know I clasped an asp to my breast, for I was young then, and in some ways of the world, an utter innocent. 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

**1816.**

 

"Lady Perdita." My former Lover bent over my hand, and his blue eyes traveled up my form, lingering on my waist, which had not yet begun to expand. My Husband was nowhere in Sight. "Is your dance card filled yet this eve?"

 

"Sir, if you wish to waltz with me all night, my Husband will not give a fig." I tore up my dance card and tossed it to the floor under Mr Sinclaire's shocked gaze. "Let them talk, for I am now a Married woman, and may dance with whomever I wish."

 

Mr Sinclaire's eyes sparked with amusement. "Society will bow to you, my dear Countess, and you shall set it on its ear." 

 

We waltzed through the crowd to the balcony, and then ran into the maze, where he pressed me up against the shrubbery, my skirts to my waist, his tongue buried between my legs. When we returned to the ball, my husband met us at the door, drawing a leaf from my hair with a snicker of amusement. 

 

"Have a little more Decorum, my Perdita," he whispered in my ear, his stubble grazing the soft skin there. A strange, warm tingle ran along my skin, but I did not give it much thought, still buzzing with the carnal memory of my lover's tongue in my most secret place. 

 

To Sinclaire, he bowed, and a mischievous grin pulled at his lips. "When we return to the countryside, we may all do as we like, Sinclaire. I wish you the Joy of her bed." His eyes warmed when he looked at me, and we shared a glance that made Sinclaire stiffen in displeasure. "For she brings a lonely man much joy and Comfort, and laughter and light are never far from her Embrace." 

 

•••

 

In late November of that year, I came to the birthing bed six weeks too soon, but despite the doctor's assurances, my son was born blue with the cord around his neck, and neither cried nor moved. I took to my bed for weeks, and knew only sorrow, shutting out everyone except Annabelle, who came to the estate with my Lady Grandmother to care for me in my convalescence.

 

"I know you do not wish to hear this, Perdita, but Briar has birthed a fine, lusty boy. She asks for you to come to the christening as godmother." 

 

I turned to face her, hot tears welling up in my eyes. "I cannot, I cannot." 

 

Annabelle laid a hand on my cheek, stroking it gently. "And Marlcaster asked me to keep it from you, but the banns have been read, Mr Sinclaire is to wed Miss Holloway at Christmas." 

 

"No!" I bolted up from bed, throwing the covers back. "No, no! Take me to him!" And I collapsed, sobbing with renewed grief, into her arms. 

 

"Miss Parsons? Perdita!" My Husband opened the door, and before I knew it, he had wrapped me in a tight embrace. He smelled of smoke and blood, and I knew he had been out hunting, for it was what he did when he needed to clear his head. 

 

"You are crushing me!" I gasped, and his embrace lightened, but he did not let me go. 

 

"By God, Perdita. I could hear your screams from downstairs. I thought..." he cleared his throat. "It is good to know you are back, you minx. I was so afraid." But the last part was said so soft I must have misheard. 

 

I laid my head on his shoulder, sagging against him, my dearest Friend, my husband. "I lost the baby, Edmund." It was the first time I had used his given name outside of the nuptial bed, so many months ago. 

 

He startled, and went utterly still. Then his hand began to stroke my back, in soft caress. "That was not your fault, Perdita. I do not care what anyone says," -- Fiercely, for his Mother was the one who had said it loudest, and with the most Malicious pleasure. 

 

I heard the door close gently, dearest Annabelle always did have good manners. "But, husband -- he must despise me." 

 

My husband stilled and drew back, cupping my cheek in his hand. "Never, Wife -- Dita." I liked the way he shortened my name, the way his voice changed when he said it. There was something different about it from his lips than anyone else's, though I could not put a finger on what, exactly, I liked so much. "Come, let me call you a bath." 

 

Once the bath was drawn, he helped me out of my grimy night shift, and into the tub. "Tell me how I can help you, Perdita," he whispered, and there were tears in his eyes as he knelt on the floor, my limp hand in his. "Though he was not my true son, I thought of him as my heir. You must know that." He cleared his throat. "Sinclaire has been here every day, he is a man much Grieved."

 

"Not too grieved," I choked out. "For I hear he will wed Miss Holloway -- you kept it from me! We promised never to do that to one another, Edmund."

 

"I do not pretend to know Mr Sinclaire's heart, Perdita, but I know he loves you, as -- as we all do. He needs an heir too. Do not think he will care for the chit -- were things different, I know he would have wed you." My husband pressed a kiss to my knuckles, his blue eyes sincere. 

 

I squeezed his hand. "As Miss Daly would have wed you, Edmund." His face closed at that, and I squeezed his hand again. "And you have a natural son now, the finest of boys, I hear."

 

He smiled at once, the proud papa. "I cannot wait for you to meet him. We have named him Harry." 

 

"I should like that, very much," I whispered, and tears gathered in my eyes, unbidden. Before I knew what was happening, Edmund began to wash my hair, gently, his fingers massaging my scalp. I bit back a moan, this was an intimacy I had only shared heretofore with Mr Sinclaire. 

 

"Let me comfort you." His thumbs massaged my scalp, and he poured warm water from the pitcher into my tresses, the sweet rose scent perfuming the air. When he was done, he handed me the bar of soap, but I held it up. 

 

"I will wash your back if you will wash mine." 

 

My husband sloshed into the bath behind me with his clothes still on, and plucked the soap from my hands. "I am the one who will take care of you, Dita," he whispered against the back of my neck, gathering suds on his hands so that the water became scented and frothy. "As I should have done from the start. Do not worry about me." 

 

I half turned, studying his dear, familiar face, and cupped his jaw in my hand. I could sense his inner turmoil, and he turned his head, kissing my palm, his eyes lingering on my face. There was so much pain there. "Edmund, you do not have to be strong with me all the time." I felt suddenly vulnerable, raw, and it was not just because I was Nude as Venus in the foam. "I am your friend," I repeated firmly. "And we promised to always be truthful with one another."

 

"The man should be the strong one." His voice wavered, hoarse, and he caught my hand in his, bringing my fingertips to his mouth. "Let me carry this burden for you, Dita." 

 

"Where is he?" I begged, and we both knew I did not speak of Sinclaire. 

 

"I talked to the vicar. He lies with your brother and father, in the family plot. I will take you to see him, when you have rested. You must rest. Mother sent a bottle of laudanum, but..." A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Your Lady Grandmother had it dumped out." 

 

Thank heavens for my Lady Grandmother, for I learned only later that one of his hounds, Caesar, had licked it up and died of convulsions within the hour. If not for her, I should be lying cold in the churchyard as well. 

 

"I will rest, but only if you hold me." I leaned back against his broad chest, the water had begun already to cool, and my teeth chattered. 

 

Edmund climbed out of the bath and cursed under his breath, he was dripping water everywhere. He fetched me a warm towel from beside the fire, and helped me from the tub, wrapping me in it. Then he picked me up, despite my protestations, and carried me to his bedchamber like a new bride, laying me gently in the center of the bed. 

The sheets smelled of his scent, woodsy and fresh, and I snuggled under the coverlet. 

 

He seemed about to say something, then I heard him curse at his clothing as he stripped down, the wet clothes thudding on the floor. He climbed into bed beside me, his body too far away by half, and when I turned to face him, he pressed a kiss upon my forehead, gripping my hand tightly. 

 

I caressed his jaw, I dared not speak, lest it break the spell. He brushed his thumb over my lips, and asked, in a hoarse voice, 

 

"May I kiss you?" There was something there I was not used to seeing in the face of my Husband, my dearest Friend, but I thought little of it, we must take what Comfort we can in this life of ours. 

 

"Edmund, you do not have to ask me," I chided him, and a soft smile came to his lips. "You are my _husband_." 

 

His lips were sweet, they tasted of mint, and my lower belly fluttered in anticipation as his lips moved down my neck and across my collarbone, tasting me. "Dita," he breathed, and when I twined my hands in his hair, he groaned, kissing me harder, deeper, his warm hands sliding along my curves, every little kiss sending off a flurry of sparks along my skin, like watching the fireworks over Vauxhall Gardens. "Have I ever told you how happy I am with this marriage?" 

 

I closed my eyes as his mouth moved lower, down the no longer taut skin of my lower belly. "We both have what we desire, Ned -- Husband." His upper lip and chin was not as close shaven as Mr Sinclaire's, and I felt my limbs go boneless at the sensation. 

 

"There's no need for formality in our bed, sweet." He twined his fingers in mine, lifting my hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss upon my palm, featherlight. "Call me Ned again, I -- I like it." 

 

"Ned." I gasped aloud as his lips brushed my most secret place, where only Mr Sinclaire's tongue had ever touched before. "Oh --!" 

 

"Tell me what it is you most desire, Dita," Edmund growled, his blue eyes meeting mine. The tip of his tongue flicked against the hood of my swollen nub, and my hips arched into his mouth in wanton need as he circled it. The sparks focused there, and grew into a blazing fire the more he swirled, until I was sobbing his name, over and over, the lights exploding in front of my eyes. 

 

When he entered me, he flipped me over so I rode him astride, groaning my name as his eyes locked with mine, pulsing hot and deep inside of me. 

 

"Perdita!" he gasped, fingers digging into my hips. "Dita, Dita!" 

 

When we lay in each other's arms afterwards, he whispered, "Do not despair, Dita. I am here."

 

"And -- Briar?" Her name in our bed was like a scythe cutting through the air, and he rolled over on his back, staring up at the canopy, his face unreadable. 

 

He ran a hand over his face. "I... She sends her love."

 

Love and hatred are two sides of the same coin. You cannot have one without the other. Briar may have loved me, but she did not miss a single trick, nor the way my husband's eyes would stray to me whenever we were in the same room, or if I laughed a little too long or too loudly at his jests. 

 

When I came to the birthing bed again, the timing was off, and Briar was most aggrieved when I birthed a fine daughter, Susanna. Her position as mistress was ever a precarious one, and my child would claim what she considered _her_ child's true birthright. 

 

"She is beautiful, Perdita," Briar said to me as we nursed our babes beside the lake. That was one commoner's privilege I would not give up. "Did you ever think, back in Grovershire, that one day our babes would be --" but she stopped herself. 

 

_Siblings._

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written to fill a request on tumblr for mrsernestsinclaire. It is also available on the Choices Archive, and on my tumblr @boneandfur . Look for the moodboard on my tumblr side blog, @duchessofpenumbria


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